


dead, but not for long

by valvet



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Horror Elements, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Post-Pain Patrol, consensual stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valvet/pseuds/valvet
Summary: red jack dies and has to feed off of his friend in order to get out of hell
Relationships: (Implied) Red Jack/Eric Morden, Red Jack/Cecil Hardwood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	dead, but not for long

When Red Jack had let himself die by Niles Caulder’s own two hands, knife logged into his chest; he had completely forgot about how exactly the world worked; up until the moment he was back in The Void, specifically in his own birthing place. Dirt and water up to his knees around him, the last time he had been here was in 1804, out of his own violation Jack had wanted to see if it was real once again. To know that he wasn't that bad for thinking he was being controlled by another, this time around the worms were not as comforting however, they had maws of teeth, large as a child would be and angry as ever in their noises. However, he wasn't scared--he never was, but it was a sight to behold, when Tim was the vessel, he kept his horrors to the small variety; it seems that Cecil had more theatrics than he imagined. 

The worm moved along however, wiggling back into the dirt; then Jack looked up, and then was on the surface, whiplash overtook him for a moment; even as a beast that he was, it seems the general knowledge of gravity still overtook him. Odd really, Cecil had expected him to not be easily confused; but yet again he never had him die in the time he was vessel.

Why yes, Cecil was the one watching this, as Eric Morden does with his own space, he narrates his miserable, dirt and corpse covered space as much as he does, but that is to be beside the point. 

Jack was alone, in the most basic sense; he knew naught of fear, but abandonment, the dirt was thick, grass sparse and fog thick; no sun in sight, or moon by that matter; it was just dark, blank nothingness. A wave of familiarity washed over him for a moment, albeit the place he was standing wasn't the one he remembered, there was no blood or muscle growing from trees--no, there were no trees at all; but Jack knew that smell, the moist scent of decaying flesh long since left out in the sun. 

It was intoxicating.

He could just picture what the corpse would look like, the rot and the insects eating away at the stab wounds, face agape with permanent horror, limbs frozen in rigor mortis and oh god the blood--dark red and stained across the skin like a perfect picture. 

The only thought he could think of was to find it--and to be more specific, our narrator; Cecil himself. There he began his journey through the decay, hard footsteps against a truly lonely place, even if Jack didn't feel fear--he could taste it on his tongue; the people that had been in fear here beforehand. The amount of effort it took not for him not to get onto his knees and try to devour the dirt itself just to try to taste the horror was much, forced to not dine upon one of the greatest emotions, genuine horror. Alas, he walked on, and the air grew thick; and he came to the crossroad; still the same since he had been here before, a large oak tree stood; branches broken for the most part and obvious signs of claws carved into the bark; a new addition was the hand sticking out of the ground though, begging him to come closer. 

A sight to behold; the taste of many men who had died there, skin torn open as a wolfish beast bite into them, holding them up against the tree and--

Not now, he’d have to savor the taste, that's what makes a meal good, you need to take your time devouring it.

At that, his surroundings changed once again, and Cecil knew he was there at last.

It had come through a slight breeze from his fireplace, albeit he thought it was just a notion from the space to work harder, but once he began to hear--see Jack, his thoughts and inner workings finally, after good attempts to keep them at bay. He gave in, and with a quick kick of his fireplace, Jack stood, eyes bugging out of his head slightly; usual “clean” face covered in soot and dirt, clothes dirty with it as well, and more importantly, torn butterfly wings and dark blood. Cecil wanted to be amused, that's the whole point of this job isn't it? To be entertained by the suffering of others? But instead, he felt a tear at his heart--even if he knew that wasn't the right response.

“It seems you’re quite dead” Cecil spat out, attempting to seem at least professional, Jack looked down,and then with a clever smile, laughed.

“You’re quite right--well, I did die per say, but you know the usual I presume? There are no predetermined deaths for me” that part is true, no vessel or whatever the hell Jack is can ever die; you can try to, but you just end up back where you came from; like Groundhog Day except worse on every level.

“But alas, I can't leave just yet; being killed weakens me greatly and I can only imagine going through one of those orbs of yours will kill me once again” Cecil scoffed.

“Highly doubt that part, probably just rip your body apart atom by atom, been there, done that '' Jack's eyes lit up, good christ maybe he shouldn't mentioned that, his pupils began to swell with hunger.

“Have you now?” His voice was just begging for something to devour--and Cecil felt pity begin to come up through his throat; he was a monster, not a person per say, but close enough. But still, he felt bad; it was obvious he was hungry, his face showed obvious signs of hollowness, eyes sunken in and lips chapped, eyes always darting about to find something to eat. 

It would be negligent to leave one of his domains unfed, even if Jack tried to pretend he wasn't intrinsically part of The Void, he was, and it was Cecil’s duty to keep his places well fed and tidy. A sigh escaped Cecil’s throat, pity and duty, and a bit of love as well, what a perfect amount of emotions that could cause Cecil to let this damn bastard feed off of him, and probably stab him.

“I have, yes; only once though” Jack came closer, a devil he was; tongue sticking out already from his teeth.

“Tell me more, i can taste it faintly, don’t tease me now, I'm starving for your agony” Cecil felt his heart rate pick up; that damn voice, it could make him speak the truth anytime.

“It was when i first..became like this, i wasn't doing my usual thing and i tried to leave and uh…” It all came back to him, the misery he was in, the fact he had to hurt people to even keep above water made him sick to his stomach, in a futile attempt to become a person he smashed an orb against his foot. It shredded his skin upon, the hot air flowing into his wounds and good lord the burning; it never stopped; each atom in his body coming undone and for a moment, he saw the light; death itself, then he was forced back down into the depths of the darkness.

Jack was practically drooling all over Cecil at that point, hands gripping at the seat’s sides, legs shaking with all the emotions he was sucking up.

“God--it's not enough dear i--” thank god he wasn't talking, instead he cracked his neck, bones almost sticking out as he hissed through his teeth. Cecil looked about, and pulled open the drawer next to him, he usually kept a knife next to him just in case Tim was to come around when he was more beast than man; a good stab in the leg usually made him stop howling and pissing all over the rug. 

“Take it,” Cecil stated, shoving the knife into his hands; maybe not the best of his own ideas to give the pain feeding monster a knife, but if he needed more, then Cecil would be his buffet.

“Mmhm, you’re eager for the pain aren't you?” shit, he had given the not just pain feeding--but negative emotion feeding monster a knife and the ability to be in his head. Cecil tried to struggle for a moment; albeit it was no use, Jack laughed and pressed his knee into his crotch; bastard.

“I know that smell on you, that needs to help and make me feel good; to feed the beast that you try to hide from” His teeth were bare, and the knife was already against his chest; not pressing just yet though. “You are such a kind man, dear, to gladly let me feed on you; the taste of iron on your tongue and all those dark memories of being torn apart” he flicked his tongue against his teeth, “absolutely delicious”

“Then take a bite already” Jack tsked him, sliding his hand underneath Cecil’s sweater, not in a sexual way, he pressed his fingers up against his ribs, pushing against them before moving towards his chest’ a sigh escaped his lips.

“So much agony has happened here, hm? The nights you’d spend clawing at your own chest, attempting to break it open and pull all that excess flesh out, but never would that come” Not clawing, slicing, Cecil always hated his body, its vile rough edges and sickly indents, but more importantly when he was a human--a person and not an instrument, he loathed his breasts; every night he’d attempt to tear them off, albeit he never did; a damn coward he was, but the attempts were made. 

“I may feed off your agony, the misery that dwells within your head, but I’d love to let that free for you” The knife was now pressing into him, his chest heaved, Jack took a deep breath.

Then the hot white pain took over; Jack had expert hands and knew just where to make it hurt like hell, wriggling it inside of him as he pressed his face into Cecil’s neck; teeth deciding to dig themselves into his throat. His strokes inside of him were deliberate, hitting right near where his heart would be, thank christ he didn't have any organs really left; but still, it burned, body aflame as he let out a shriek, body violently shaking with agony--sweet, sweet agony. 

Then, he felt a hand inside of his chest, scratching at the muscles inside of him; the meat covered in fresh wounds from his lover’s hands--one of them at least. It wasn't rough though, not to cause pain in a harsh manner, but to draw out the best parts of it; the veins that were exposed being pricked at with his fingers; stabbing the more tender and soft spots of his meat. 

“Did you bite off more than you can chew?” Cecil asked with a weak voice, blood was probably smeared across his chest now, a damn disaster of a painting his skin his. Jack stopped biting at his neck (more like sucking, a werewolf, a beast and a vampire he was)

“Never, you can try to fill me, make me so full that i bloat, but that is never to happen, pain and misery will always complete me” poetic bastard, Cecil thrusted his chest up into the knife, it was a bad decision really, but Jack’s face quickly turned back into bliss as he fell right back onto his neck.

Of course then he took it upon himself to begin to stab his chest rapidly, in short bursts of hunger, not really burning anymore, more like stubbing your toe repeatedly on the same open wound. The things you do for love.

Was it love? Hypothetically it could be, Cecil knew he could love people--he loved Eric Morden once upon almost a century ago, but was he even able to love even as a monster?

A kiss was on his neck as the stabbing came to a close, a beautiful instrumental of pain Jack had written out on his skin; Jack loved him--or what he considered love, perhaps it was mixed with the insatiable hunger of his own being, but still. He knew that at least two people loved him.

Eric loved him, by christ he adored him, but none of that now. Cecil could reminisce about his other lover afterwards.

“You’ve done me quite well” Jack murmured into his skin, moving his lips up to his jaw; teeth almost kind as they dragged across his skin; “no man’s pain has ever satisfied me like that, even Tim was quite a harsh meal for me--hours i’d have to spend with him just to feast on him to go home, but you? It takes me no time to worship your misery, my biggest desire of all is to have you for just a day, to eat away those memories of yours so new, more--physically painful memories can form.”

Empathy? 

“Mmhm, you wanna take away my trauma?” Cecil laughed at his own question, if only therapy was like that.

“If only if it was that easy! To sooth it, I may love suffering--christ, it fuels who I am, the tastes, the variables of what it can be are something I dine on every day and night, my own personal delicacy that only I can devor on properly, but…” He came into Cecil’s view finally, “your misery isn't the type i enjoy, its blue, dark and filled with hatred of yourself, its haunting to taste on-i want it to be violent, those horrid moments of when you tear your cheeks open and all those times you remember that you have to make others hurt to live. Not, overtly depressing; it drags my stomach to a halt, fills me up but not in the way i like.” Even a beast feels things, Cecil let out a chuckle before pushing his body up.

“You prefer actual agony over trauma?” Red Jack scoffed.

“If you are to shamelessly water it down, dear, then yes; well--only...yours, you are a miserable human being filled with so much pain, that the agony you have compared to the others is just so refreshing to taste” Ah, Cecil nodded.

“So you’re just picky when comes to me, cool” The fact that Jack was annoyed at that made the Eric Morden sized hole in his heart seal back up; sure, it wasn't the same; Eric was easy to annoy if you knew what to do; poking at his ego usually did the trick; but Jack would be a good replacement, if all it took for him to become mildly infuriated was him reducing his words and not giving into his weird poetic bullshit, then it would do.

“I have specific tastes, dear, I like good flavor within my meals” Cecil laughed.

“Just say your picky! It's not that difficult!” Now he was getting somewhere, Jack let out a deep growl from the back of his throat; if he kept it up he could easily use him to keep The Void happy. 

“Don’t make me get violent with you, even if you find great pleasure in not having your trauma being eaten; i will gladly do so at a drop of a hat” That shut him right up on that subject, perhaps poking the bear wasn't the best idea, not yet. Silence fell upon them, and Cecil wiggled himself out of Jack’s hungry grasp. Grasping one of the orbs in his hand; placing it in his gloved hand.

“You can..go now, i guess” Red Jack grinned

“Kicking me out so soon?” 

“Yeah, i have shit to get done today, y'know like causing human related problems and finishing the bowl of pot I got” He replied, trying to hold back the obvious amusement in his voice, Jack rolled his eyes.

“A cruel master you are! If you insist, then I’ll go--but i expect you to visit me, it seems that being alone isn't what i desire most in life; i believe being with you and Eric are moments that any man like me could ever dream of”

Then he was gone, though his knife wasn't; Cecil had a giant gaping hole in his chest; and he sighed.

Things you do for love--well, more of what you do for a parasite. One that never could properly die and would probably haunt him until the universe implodes on itself, how wonderful. A perfect relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> red jack should've lived and had more episodes dedicated to him change my mind


End file.
